


can you see my heart glow?

by sevensevan



Series: pride month 2018 [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: Natasha gets hurt on a mission and comes home to Wanda.





	can you see my heart glow?

**Author's Note:**

> what it says on the tin. shoutout to Julia here on ao3 for the prompt.

Wanda is making dinner when she gets the call.

She likes cooking. Pietro had done most of it after their parents had died, and it’s…calming, in a way, going through the same motions she had watched him do a thousand times. Although none of her food is ever quite the same as his was, and, in Wanda’s opinion, not as good, Natasha seems to enjoy her cooking, and that alone would be motivation for Wanda to make a habit of it. Natasha enjoys it when she’s home, at least, which is…more often than Wanda had anticipated, but not nearly as often as she’d like. She had been under no illusions when they’d moved in together. She understands that Natasha has duties, things that she feels she has to atone for, and Wanda would never try to drag her away from that, but that doesn’t mean Wanda doesn’t miss Natasha’s presence in the living room, drinking wine and watching Wanda cook from the couch.

“Hello?” she says after pausing her music, setting the phone to speaker and putting it down on a clear patch of counter. She returns to chopping scallions, her movements quick and practiced.

“ _Hey, Wanda, it’s Steve_ ,” Steve’s voice says, sounding vaguely robotic over the speakers.

“I know,” Wanda says, smiling slightly. In many ways, Steve has adapted to the twenty-first century flawlessly, but he still doesn’t seem to quite grasp the idea of caller ID.

“ _Right_ ,” Steve says. “ _Anyway, I’m just calling to let you that the mission is over_.” Wanda’s steady chopping pauses for a moment. Normally, Natasha is the one to do this. She’ll find a quiet moment on the flight home from wherever she happens to be, and she’ll call Wanda, voice low and secretive even though everyone is fully aware of their relationship, aware enough that Steve is calling her in Natasha’s place.

“Is Natasha alright?” Wanda asks, resuming her chopping somewhat less neatly, anxiety sparking in her chest.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Steve says immediately. “ _Well, kind of_.” The knife slips, and Wanda hisses in pain, a thin red line appearing on her finger.

“What do you mean, kind of?” she asks, using her uninjured hand to raise the volume on the phone before stepping over to the sink and rinsing her cut. The water stings, but Wanda has long since stopped worrying over such things. _Pain is a tool_ , Natasha likes to tell her. _Don’t ignore it, but don’t let it control you, either_.

“ _She’s going to be fine_ ,” Steve says in a reassuring tone. Wanda turns the water off, wrapping her finger in the nearest clean towel and stepping back over to the counter.

“Is she not fine right now?” Wanda asks, quickly losing patience with Steve’s reluctance to say what he means. Steve sighs, the noise coming through the phone as a rush of static.

“ _Wanda_ —“

“Steve.” Steve sighs again.

“ _She was shot_.” Wanda bites her lip hard, catching the sudden tempest of concern and fear in her chest and pushing it down.

“Explain,” she snaps.

“ _Everything was going fine_ ,” Steve says. “ _But just before we got out, she got hit in the arm. But she’s going to be fine, Wanda. Alright? It’s just a surface wound. She saw a doctor and got some stitches. There’ll be no permanent damage. She’ll be just fine in six weeks_.” Wanda leans against the counter, exhaling slowly, quietly enough that Steve won’t hear.

“Alright,” she says. “Alright. When will she be home?”

“ _In an hour so_ ,” Steve says. “ _She’s gonna be alright, Wanda. I promise_.” Wanda picks the phone up with her uninjured hand.

“I know,” she says. “Thank you for calling, Steve.”

“ _Of course_.” There’s a rustle of background noise, and Steve says something unintelligible to someone on the other end. “ _Have a good night_ ,” he says to her.

“You too,” Wanda says, clicking the phone off. She sets it back down, unwrapping her finger now that she’s no longer distracted and eyeing the cut. It’s shallow, not long, with only a small trickle of blood still dripping out. She quickly mops up the bit of blood on the counter and tosses the offending knife in the sink before wrapping her finger up again and leaning against the counter, gaze tilted up to the ceiling. She takes several deep, slow breaths, closing her eyes.

_Natasha has been shot. Natasha will be fine_. Wanda shakes her head, trying to force herself to stop thinking. She turns her music back on, the sound pumping through a Bluetooth speaker on the counter, and she turns it up before she goes to the bathroom to bandage her finger, the sound drowning out the insistent, buzzing anxiety in her ears.

By the time the door to the apartment opens just under an hour later, Wanda is moving still-cooling pans to the sink. The food is on serving plates on the counter, waiting.

“Hey,” Natasha says as she closes the door behind herself. Wanda turns to greet her girlfriend, blinking in surprise when she sees that Natasha’s arm is in a sling. “I don’t need the sling,” Natasha says, catching Wanda’s look. “I told them I didn’t need the sling.”

“Natasha,” Wanda says, surprising herself with how calm her voice is. “Be quiet and come kiss me.” Natasha smiles, dropping her duffel bag on the floor and stepping forward. She’s wearing heeled boots, making her the same height as Wanda. She doesn’t wear such things as often as she used to, and Wanda rather likes being taller than her, but she’s not going to complain about the way Natasha leans into her, pressing their bodies together, fingers winding into Wanda’s hair. Natasha presses their foreheads together for a moment after pulling away from the kiss, closing her eyes. She looks exhausted, Wanda realizes. Whatever the mission was, it was hard on her, and not just because she got shot.

“Alright?” Wanda asks quietly. Natasha’s eyes open, and she allows her hand to slip out of Wanda’s hair, although it immediately falls to her waist.

“Fine,” Natasha answers automatically. Wanda raises a skeptical eyebrow at her, waiting for a real answer. Natasha smiles just a bit at the expression. “Tired,” she amends. “And hungry.”

“Well, you’re just in time for dinner,” Wanda says, moving far enough away to make eye contact without going cross-eyed, though not so far that she can’t feel Natasha’s warmth beside her. “Do you want to go change while I set the table?”

“Sure.” Natasha kisses her forehead lightly before walking away, her motions lacking their usual deadly grace, instead made slow and heavy with exhaustion. Wanda watches her go with concern before turning back to the meal.

By the time Natasha returns, Wanda is waiting at the table, two plates full of food set out. Natasha is back to the way Wanda prefers seeing her; her face is clear of makeup, her feet are bare, and she’s dressed in leggings and an oversized t-shirt that may have been Steve’s at one point. Natasha sets a hand on Wanda’s shoulder as she steps up behind her, kissing the top of her head.

“Thank you for cooking,” she says, as she says every time Wanda cooks. It never sounds any less sincere, and it never fails to make Wanda smile. Wanda covers the hand on her shoulder with one of her own, and is about to respond when Natasha’s hand flips over, catching hers and holding it up. “What happened to your finger?” she asks, concerned.

“I cut myself cooking,” Wanda says dismissively. “What happened to your arm?” Natasha lets go of Wanda’s hand, stepping around to the other side of the table and settling into her chair.

“Doesn’t matter,” she says. Wanda’s eyebrow raises again. “I’d rather not talk about it,” Natasha corrects herself.

“Okay,” Wanda says, smiling at her. “But there will be no training or fighting or missions during your recovery.”

“Oh, come _on_.”

“Shh,” Wanda says, pointing her fork at Natasha. “You will heal faster this way. Besides, a few weeks stuck in this apartment with me? It won’t be so bad.”

“Sounds _terrible_ ,” Natasha says, any effect the comment may have had ruined by the wide smile on her face.

“A nightmare.”

“Hell on Earth.”

“Eat your dinner, you child.” Natasha laughs before making a show of obediently eating her meal, and Wanda smiles in satisfaction.

Natasha is home. A little worse for wear, but _home_ , and things are right. Things are good.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm writing a fic a day for pride month, and i'm taking any and all lgbtq prompts through the end of june. leave a comment or send me an ask on tumblr @daisys-quake. leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed.


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